


Silver Linings Playbook

by SorginaKaskarina



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Mental Health Issues, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:08:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24526633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorginaKaskarina/pseuds/SorginaKaskarina
Summary: Sergio is referred to a clinical psychologist for reasons beyond his understanding. Certain things are clear from the start, despite being a clever man he has low esteem, difficulty forming interpersonal relationships, and a few strange proclivities. These problems have been an impediment for so long, they are part of who is and so he has learnt to live with them. But there are people in his life who clearly didn't sign up to a live a "life less lived" as they call it. Sergio's counsellor has her work cut out for her.I like the idea of exploring mental health issues and Silver Linings Playbook is one of my favourite movies - but even though I am not sure where this story is headed, I can tell you now that it isn't based on the film. I have only borrowed the title.
Relationships: Denver | Daniel Ramos/Mónica Gaztambide, Raquel Murillo/Professor | Sergio Marquina
Comments: 25
Kudos: 71





	1. Exordium

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, I am rather obsessed with SERQUEL and a silent reader on here. This fandom has incredibly talented writers so while I have written a few things in the past I've never thought they were good enough to share with you guys.
> 
> But hey, it doesn't look like this quarantine is ending anytime soon and Alvaro's interview(s) kind of annoyed me so I thought I'd just put this out there. Also, I'm not sure where this story is headed, but like it says in the summary, it isn't based on Silver Linings Playbook - I don't think I can write Sergio as being bipolar. Anyway, here's hoping the story isn't a complete disappointment!

“Come on in,” said the woman with a reassuring smile. He thought it was almost too reassuring, and wondered if it was part of the package. Well rehearsed over the years and in her various interactions with the people who came in to see her. Actually, they weren’t just people when they came to see her. They were patients, as if transformed by a curse. He reminded himself that’s what he was too.

She was watching him with a neutral expression even though he knew she could see his mind working a mile a minute. A moment later she said, “why don’t you take a seat.” He looked around the room, her office. Large window to one side of the room that overlooked a small, but well maintained green space. A floor to ceiling bookcase lining another wall, an oak desk in front of it, comfortable armchairs and a chaise lounge dotted around the room. He frowned, there were far too many seating options. She hadn’t indicated if there was a particular chair reserved for heror her patients for that matter and decided to ask, “where would you like me to sit?”

She saw the confusion on his face and realised the simple act of choosing presented a challenge. She decided to make it easier, but not entirely so. “Well, that depends on you, some people like to lie down on the chaise. Others prefer an armchair. The red one, for example.” She saw his eyes dart between the two options and observed how that simple statement had reduced his choice down to two objects and he had relaxed a fraction. She made a mental note: dislikes fluidity in his surroundings, perhaps situations too.

He finally chose the armchair, so she chose one directly facing him and smiled, “thank you for choosing to come here. As you know, I’m Dr Monica Gaztambide, most people just call me Monica and to be honest, I prefer it that way. What would you like me to call you?”

“Sergio is fine,” he said and saw that she continued to smile as she replied, “okay Sergio. Where would you like us to start?” He frowned in return, “aren’t you supposed to decide that?”

Still smiling, she shook her head, “not if we want this to work for you. See, me telling you things, where to sit for example,” she gave him a pointed look before continuing, “makes it easier in the short term but won’t really help you. So that isn’t an approach I like to take. I need you to be able to trust that not only is this a safe space, it’s somewhere you are in total control. And it’s okay if the thought of that is scary, that can be one of the things we work on together.”

Sergio considered her response. She seemed to understand that situations like these, where not only was he supposed to talk, but set the course for the conversation were intimidating for him. So intimidating in fact that he had almost not come here. 

So she decided he would be one of the patients that needed to be directed a little and said, “why don’t we start with how you’re feeling?” He frowned before asking, “right now?” Seeing her nod, he carefully said “not great if I’m being honest.”

“Honest is what we need to be with each other Sergio. And because you’ve touched on the subject of honesty, I’m going to tell you now that some of my patients don’t always like me being honest, but it’s the one thing I refuse to change about these interactions. Can you live with that?” He nodded carefully, so she added, “then you and I are going to get along just fine.”

Starting with the basics that Monica went through with each of her patients, she explained how therapy worked. What doctor-patient confidentiality meant in theory and how it worked in practice. She then moved on to going through some of the basic details she already knew about him to get the conversation started.

“So, just to confirm some of the details I have on file for you here. _Your name is Sergio Marquina. My records tell me you are are 42 years old. You are privately employed by a software house here in San Francisco. You came here ten years ago from Barcelona. You are married and have one child. And this is a private appointment which means you have not been referred to me by a personal or company physician and decided to come see me on your own._ Is all that correct?”

He nodded in response, but she saw him hesitate for a moment and adjust his glasses before adding, “actually, my wife made the appointment.” 

Monica realised he had not come to her willingly, that made her job more difficult but it wasn’t something that came as a surprise. Her job as a clinical psychologist regularly required her to see patients who had come to her reluctantly, sometimes even against their will. So, she kept her expression neutral and asked, “why do you think she did that?”

He shrugged in response before replying, “you could say that we are going through a bit of a rough patch.” Monica frowned slightly and said, “couples therapy is one of my specialisms, but if that’s the case, she should be here with you.”

He said the next words so quietly that Monica almost didn’t hear him, “she thinks the problem is with me.” The poor man looked defeated and Monica felt a tinge of empathy for him, reminding herself not to emotionally connect with a patient she asked, “you said she thinks that. Did she say it in so many words?” Seeing him nod, she continued, “okay, why in your opinion did she say that?”

“I’ve been told, by many people that I can be difficult to live with. I am probably not as affectionate as other husbands either. And I’m definitely nothing like the men she has dated in the past. I suppose you could say I’m boring.”

She smiled again, “you’re probably being hard on yourself, but even if that is the case, would you say you’ve always been this way or have you changed since your marriage?”

“Always been this way.” There was a pause, and then he added “I don’t like change. So I wouldn’t want to change myself.”

She made a note of that, “let’s park your comment about change for a minute here. Your wife, if you’ve always been this way as you say, she would’ve known what she was getting into when you got married. Boring, is a way to describe someone’s personality and it is a subjective description anyway. So she would’ve known what she was getting into when you two were dating.”

Monica saw him consider what she had said, he looked like he was weighing every word, it was almost like there was an inner turmoil in him before he finally looked up at her and said, “we didn’t really date for too long.”

“That’s been known to happen,” she added absentmindedly playing with her wedding band, “my husband and I didn’t date for too long either before we got married, sometimes you just know immediately. But out of curiosity, how long were you two dating?”

“I had known her for over 10 years when we got married.” She laughed at the reply and said, “that isn’t what I asked.”

He hesitated, visibly uncomfortable now and said, “we met for lunch at 12:30 and got married at a local church at 16:30 the same afternoon.” All her years of training and professional experience had not prepared her for this. Monica almost did a double take, and all she could manage in reply was, “excuse me? Did I hear that right?”

She would’ve thought he was joking if not for the defiant look on his face and saw him nod, “you heard me.” Then she saw him smile for the first time since he’d been in her office and realised he was pleased at himself for managing to catch her out with what she had said earlier when he added, “you said it yourself, sometimes we just know immediately.”

Deciding to indulge him she laughed and said, “touché, but I didn’t mean know within a matter of 4 hours immediate…” and trailed off so he would elaborate.

He shrugged his shoulders and said, “I was in Spain on vacation and had to be back for work. Marrying her allowed me to bring her back here with me, we had a civil ceremony in San Francisco and I filed her immigration papers. It was practical.”

Monica sighed, he wasn’t telling her the full story. People didn’t get married just so they could live in the same city anymore. Perhaps she was dealing with a green card marriage andrealised she needed to probe him further, “you’re saying it was practical, maybe that is the problem. Maybe the two of you were infatuated with each other and that wore off over time.”

Vehemently shaking his head in denial he said, “there was never an infatuation. It was practical, calculated decision we took as consenting adults. We weighed the pros & cons before doing it.” 

Monica was starting to get confused, “weighed the pros & cons when you met at lunch?” Seeing him nod added, “the same afternoon that you got married?” He nodded again and Monica couldn’t help but think the whole thing was ridiculous. It was possible that Sergio as someone who had come to see a clinical psychologist was twisting facts in his head, but if what he was saying was even remotely correct, this wife of his had to be equally troubled. What a dangerous cocktail that would make, she laughed mentally but quickly realised, there was a child involved in all this.

“You have a child, Sergio. Is that with your wife?” When he nodded she smiled and asked, “boy or girl?”

“Girl,” despite the monosyllabic reply, she saw his eyes twinkle with the kind of adoration parents reserved for their children. “Tell me about her,” she encouraged. “How old is she? What is her name?”

“Six, her name is Paula.” He was smiling now.

“That’s a lovely name. Does she take after you or her mother?” 

He pushed his glasses up his nose again and said, “no, no, she’s like her mother. I don’t think we could deal with another one of me.” She laughed at that, “you’re being hard on yourself. Are you close to Paula?”

He frowned and said, “I’m not sure. We do things together.”

“What kind of things?” Monica asked in return.

“I help her do her homework. She’s incredibly smart for her age, I’m teaching her how to play the piano,” he shook his head and added, “she is a bit of a strong personality like her mother, she doesn’t like to follow the rules. So instead of teaching her notes and keys and how to read music, I have to teach her tunes. She learnt the notes to happy birthday, then Old MacDonald, she’s now learning to play the entertainer because she heard me play it once, and was determined she had to learn it next.” He smiled shaking his head.

  
“It looks like she has quite a hold on you.” She smiled, “tell me Sergio, are you afraid that you’ll lose Paula if you get divorced?”

She saw him become visibly uncomfortable at that. The smile on his face was replaced by frown lines, his shoulders slumped slightly and he pushed his glasses up his nose again, before slowly looking up at her. He knew he didn’t have to answer her question. Her eyes told him she knew the answer. It was one of the many things that kept him up at night.

The silence continued, as seconds turned to a minute and then two. Despite his predicament, Sergio couldn’t help but think that context was a funny thing. What was a minute or two on most occasions? Making a packet of instant noodles took longer. Paula often complained that being allowed to stay up for “just two more minutes” past her bedtime was not nearly enough. But here, in the office of Dr. Gaztambide, where an hour of her time had cost him $150, which meant each minute was costing him $2.50, two minutes of silence were two minutes too long. He prayed for her to start talking, ask him anything else and right about then, she spoke. “Tell me about your wife, what is she like?”

There was a look of relief in his eyes that Monica didn’t miss before he started talking. “She’s not like me.” He saw her raise an eyebrow and quickly continued, “she is a people person, she likes going out, traveling, eating out, meeting new people, experiencing different things. She used to work in a bank in Madrid, years ago that’s how we met. She was great at her job, one of the youngest to manage an investments portfolio. She spoke very little English though, so she couldn’t find a job that was the right fit when she came here. There was too much going on back then anyway. But she’s tenacious you know, she enrolled herself in a language class and in a year or so you couldn’t tell the woman hadn’t grown up speaking English. Most people would be satisfied with that, but not her. She then took classes at a community college to get her reading and writing up to speed.” He looked up at Monica before continuing, “my wife can do anything she puts her mind to, and she doesn’t give up.”

Monica considered his response. The man was clearly in awe of his wife, but it was strange he hadn’t touched upon anything more personal and so she circled back to the one crucial piece of information he had given her at the start. “You said your wife made this appointment for you because the two of you are going through a difficult time in your marriage." He was starting to look nervous now, but she continued anyway. "This tenacity of hers you talk about, is that what made you agree to it and come here, because she wouldn’t take no for an answer?”

There it was again, the nervousness visible by him edging the glasses up his nose before he replied, “she uh,” he sighed before continuing, “she said she was going to leave if I didn’t do this.” 

Monica looked at the man sat opposite her and discreetly at her wrist watch, 50 minutes into the session. This was when she had to start wrapping up and prepare the patient for any following sessions. She quickly scanned her notes for any telltale signs of danger, risk of self-harm, risk to society or others around the patient, reassured that there was none in this instance she said, “Sergio, I think it was very brave of you to come here. Your profile tells me that you’re a well traveled, educated man so this may sound textbookish but please believe me when I say, talking to a psychologist does not mean you are weak. On the contrary, like your general physician keeps a check on your physical health, it is my job to make sure your brain stays right there with your body. I want you to come see me in a couple of weeks, but before that I need to see your wife.” 

Seeing the worry on his face she quickly added, “please don’t worry. I won’t ask her anything that puts you or your relationship in jeopardy. But I need to speak to her in order to fully understand this, ‘rough patch’ as you put it.” Sergio gave her a curt nod and so she stood up and walked him to the door as she said, “great, well… thank you for coming to see me today, my assistant Amanda will make the appointments if you go speak to her.”


	2. Context

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raquel visits Monica Gaztambide. We learn about her relationship with Sergio and why she asked him to see a psychologist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Righto people, here's the second chapter. It's a bit of a long one - my apologies.

“Good morning Amanda!” Monica smiled as she walked in with two cups of steaming caramel macchiato and handed one to her assistant. “Perks of marrying a Starbucks franchise owner, you and I get our morning coffee fixes free,” she said good-humouredly to her assistant who returned her smile, “thank you Dr. Gaztambide, I’ve put your appointments for the day on your desk.”

“Perfect,” the taller lady chirped as she entered her office. It had been two years since she had set up offices here as a solo practitioner, quitting the safety of employment at a large Boston hospital. Three years, since her wedding to Ricardo - who had swept her off her feet, knocked her up and proposed faster than you could say _“perdona”_. Sometimes it felt like she was living someone else’s life. In a rather uncharacteristic turn of events, she had gone from dating the man, to being pregnant with his baby, and marrying and moving with him to the West coast in three months. It had come as a surprise to everyone who knew them because two people couldn’t be more different.

Ricardo was nothing like her, he didn’t have a college degree, he didn’t read books and was unable to appreciate fine dining, art and music. The only thing they had in common was the fact that they were both immigrants from Spain. Her friends and family had warned her about him, but for once in her life, Monica had followed her heart… and her gut. Her faith in Ricardo had paid off; beneath that rough exterior, he was all heart proved to be an incredible husband and father. They brought out the best in each other, she had smoothed his rough edges and he had given her the confidence to fly. Monica tapped her knuckles against the surface on her desk as she thought about it, three great years with a lifetime to come. 

Across town, Raquel Murillo started her day with a coffee in the kitchen of her townhouse. Fifteen minutes with a steaming espresso in the mornings was a routine she treasured dearly. It was her time to reflect, plan her day, or do nothing but reminisce, she went with her mood at the start of her day because the rest of it, her life was so regimented. Today, she felt especially grateful for her house. Located in a quiet residential street in Buena Vista North District, this early 20th century townhouse was her sanctuary. She remembered the day she had walked in here, nearly five years ago and immediately known that this was it. Her husband had been surprised because the house needed a thorough remodel. But Raquel had convinced him, and taken on the project with gusto. Looking back, she realised it had been a great decision. She needed a chunky project she could sink her teeth into, and working closely with a local architect and designer to renovate and furnish it had helped her discover a passion that had turned into an unlikely career. 

Today, the house was her pride and joy, every corner, every piece of furniture had ameaning and memory and that made it special. She had once lived in a house that had felt like the prison in Cadiz, but the process of making this house a home and then the memories they had created here had set her free.

Her thoughts were interrupted when her husband walked into the kitchen and said a rushed _“buenos dias,”_ as he made his morning fix of cafe con leche. Raquel turned around from her position on the kitchen island stool to face him, returning the greeting and saw that he was dressed to go out. It was a bit odd considering his job in software analytics allowed him the luxury of working from home most days. “You’re going into work today?”

He nodded in response before mumbling something about a big meeting as he took a sip of his coffee, uncharacteristically rushing out of the kitchen. But he was back in a minute later, standing close to her at the kitchen island looking at her pensively. The look she was giving him didn’t help his nervousness, it was like she could look into his soul. Finally breaking the silence between them she said, “penny for your thoughts Sergio?” 

He pushed his glasses up his nose and said, “uh, it’s Tuesday” and seeing her raised eyebrow added, “you have an appointment with Dr Gaztambide at noon.” Raquel was confused for all of a second and then she remembered - of course, the therapist she had sent Sergio to. He had come back from the first appointment and relayed the rather strange request from his doctor. Raquel sighed and replied, “I remember,” and barely saw him nod and leave the kitchen again.

Raquel had always been a confident woman, but the past few years had chipped away at her soul. She had started second guessing herself and somewhat lost her sense of self-belief. Salvation had come in the most unexpected of ways, and it had been difficult at first but she had stood back up and rebuilt herself, started to heal and it felt like her life was finally getting back on track. However, this morning, she felt like the Raquel who had left Madrid with Sergio, nervous and unsure of what lay ahead, and she didn’t like that feeling. It was one thing to have suggested therapy to Sergio, but she wasn’t sure how to navigate the session with this doctor herself.

Later that day, she found herself reflecting on her marriage as she drove to the doctor’s clinic. She knew her relationship was far from normal, and knew the opinion was not shared by her husband. She sighed, Sergio had his own definition of normal. She had been too busy wallowing in self-pity to notice or care the first couple of years, but in moments like this, when she had the courage to have an honest conversation with herself, and that sinking feeling took over her entire being, she knew. Raquel had felt terrible giving him the ultimatum that forced him to see Dr Gaztambide, but he had simply refused to address the problem until she had pulled that move.

Across town, an equally anxious Sergio paced the coffee area at work. He’d had no particular reason to come in today, but he knew he would have had a panic attack had he worked from home as usual, waiting for Raquel to go see Dr Gaztambide and then counting the minutes until she returned. This was better, he didn’t have to be in the same space as her. So what if he was completely useless in the office, he had worked himself to a position where he knew he was indispensable. He had enough goodwill in the organisation to spend a day doing nothing, and he promised himself he would make up for it later.

Monica had been editing an article she had written for a prominent medical journal when Amanda’s voice on the intercom announced her next appointment: Raquel Murillo. Perhaps it was professional curiosity but Monica had been been waiting to meet this woman since Sergio had narrated the story of their relationship last week. Ushering her in, going through introductions and pleasantries, Monica realised Sergio’s description of his wife had been rather accurate. The woman sat opposite her was obviously nervous, but she was holding herself together rather well. Monica was confident that most people who didn’t have her training and experience wouldn’t be able to spot the signs of Raquel’s nervousness.

After explaining why a psychologist may benefit from meeting the parent or spouse of their patients, Monica asked the question Raquel had known she would start with, “your husband says you asked him to come see me. Would you like to tell me why?”

Raquel obviously knew why, but she had been unable to summarise her reasons into a concise, logical explanation. So she replied, “I’ll be honest, I was expecting this question, but it is hard to put into words. I just don’t know where to start.” Monica smiled and said, “then why don’t you start at the very beginning. It will take longer, but it is often the best way to get things going.”

Raquel sighed at that “okay, well we have been married for five years. The story of how we got married is one for the telenovelas itself…” she trailed off when she saw Monica smile, “he told you?” That earned her a nod, before Monica replied, “he told me how it happened, he didn’t tell me the why behind it.”

Raquel rubbed her temples before starting, “that part is complicated. I find myself regretting it. Not the marriage, more how we went about it. But hindsight is a beautiful, crazy thing. Put me in the same circumstances now and I would respond differently. I tell myself there are a dozen other things I could have done at the time and all that would save both of us a lot of grief in the present. But I was in a really bad place myself back then and it felt like the only thing I could do.”

“Do you want to tell me about those circumstances?” Monica asked and heard a silent _‘joder’_ as Raquel played with her hair absentmindedly before continuing. “Yes, I suppose I need to…” a pause, another sigh while continuing to rub her temples, then she continued. “It’s not that I met Sergio that afternoon and decided to walk to the nearest church with him the same day. I had known him for close to eleven years when we got married.”

Raquel then narrated the story of how they had met at work. She was 24 and fresh out of university when she had started a two year management training programme at Banco Santander’s Madrid HQ. She quickly explained how the trainees were all required to work in various departments the first two years, in rotations that lasted three months each. Her first rotation had been with Data Science & Analytics, and even though Raquel didn’t know what she wanted to do at that point in her career, she knew data science wasn’t it. But the rotation was compulsory so she gritted her teeth and decided to get on with it knowing that the job was a great opportunity.

That’s when she met Sergio, he was a couple of years older and had just joined the data science team after completing the training programme she was about to start. The job played to his strengths and Sergio was doing well in that team. Math and computers, analysing numbers, patterns and information from the security of his cubicle was his thing. The management assigned him as Raquel’s workplace mentor for those three months even though it was clear that he preferred to work alone.

Raquel’s inexperience in general and lack of interest for staying in that team beyond the mandatory three month period didn’t help matters either. She was a complete disaster and everyday, Sergio spent an increasing amount of time explaining things and correcting her mistakes. He wasn’t like anyone she had ever met, the man preferred a sandwich lunch in his cubicle instead of going out with his colleagues. He didn’t talk to her unless he had to explain something work related, and looked like he was dressed in hand-me-downs despite the well-paying bank job. But on the rare occasions that he smiled, there were those dimples that made you forget about Brad Pitt. Or the way he ran his hands through his hair when he was frustrated about something, or the fact that despite the countless mistakes she made he never once lost his cool - never raised his voice and continued to patiently explain the numbers and patterns that were exciting to him.

And so Raquel discovered she had a huge crush on him, even though he wasn’t the type of guy she would usually go out with. Raquel had tried dropping subtle hints but he didn’t seem interested and so she decided to focus on her job and stuck with friendship. When her three months in data analytics were over, she moved to another department, but stayed friends with Sergio, or you could say went along with what his idea of being friends was. Mostly, it meant sticking to a schedule - lunch on Tuesdays at 2pm at the same restaurant close to the office.

Raquel would talk about everything under the sun and Sergio would listen. He was good at listening, even though he never said much when she shared things about her personal life, but he had really useful workplace related advice. In a way, he continued being her mentor until he surprised everyone by changing jobs. He worked in Paris for a couple of years, then Mexico before finally moving out to San Francisco. They hadn’t really kept in touch during that time. So getting together for lunch that afternoon and ending up married before the end of it wasn’t something Raquel had been seen coming.

Monica had listened quietly until that point and only spoke when Raquel paused to take a sip of her water. “OK, you’ve given me history on how you met. But how did the marriage happen?” That earned her a smile. “Yeah that,” and Raquel trailed off rubbing her temples again before she started telling Monica the story of a nightmare she had lived for a decade.

After three months with Sergio’s team, Raquel’s next rotation had been for a team in charge of sales enablement. That’s where she met the man she had then thought of as the ‘complete package’. Alberto Vicuna had great looks, an amazing personality that had made him popular with everyone and he was great at his job. So Raquel had been flattered when he showed interest in her. At first, it was chemical - alcohol induced sex that had knocked her socks off. Then it looked like it was going to be more serious because he went out of his way to woo her; dinner, dancing, sending her flowers all the time. She fell for him and she fell hard even though the warning signs had always been there. 

A compulsive narcissist,Alberto was in love with himself.The better he did professionally, the deeper he fell for what the ladies called, ‘the enigmatic Alberto’. Consequently, Raquel and Alberto’s relationship was rocky from the start. She broke up with him several times over the next few years, but he’d do something charming or the next guy would be a total disaster and Raquel would go back to him. They were on again, off again over the next six years. One day, he proposed and that’s where Raquel’s four year long nightmare began.

Her hands shaking at the memory, Raquel looked up at Monica and said, “look, there’s no easy way to put this. My ex was abusive - mental, physical torture, you name it I’ve been through it. I am not sure why I stayed for close to four years, but I left because of Paula.”

“Paula?” Monica asked confused. “My daughter,” said Raquel in reply.

Monica nodded at that, “I know, Sergio talked about her. But I don’t understand why you said you left your ex because of her.”

Raquel sighed, “I suppose Sergio didn’t tell you about the time Alberto’s abuse hurt my daughter.” Seeing Monica shake her head negatively, she continued, “Alberto came home drunk one day, and got into a rage over something, his outbursts had gotten worse with time. He threw a beer bottle at me and it hit the wall against Paula’s crib. A piece of glass lodged itself in her leg, the blood… it was everywhere.” She closed her eyes and shuddered then, “I can still hear my baby screaming.” She shut her eyes then as if trying to block out the sound, her hands clenched into fists, before continuing, “anyway, that gave me a wake up call. She was only 10 months then, it could have killed her. So I left.”

In that moment, Monica realised that Paula was Alberto’s daughter. Sergio hadn’t been the first person to talk about a stepchild as if she was his own, but what surprised Monica, was the fact that he had failed to mention this important detail to her. When Monica saw Raquel looking at her, she knew her surprise had registered on her face. This was what the head of her department in Boston had meant when he said Monica wasn’t ready to practice solo. She got too involved with the patients. Point, Dr Roman she thought and resisted the urge to swear. Out loud she said, “I have to tell you, Sergio didn’t say Paula was Alberto’s daughter. In fact he talked about her like she was his own.”

It took every ounce of Raquel’s willpower to suppress a sob at that, but she couldn’t help the stray tear off the corner of her eye, “that’s also a side to Sergio. The side that makes me want to stay in this marriage and fight for it to work. He not only accepted me and my past, he genuinely cares for Paula. He adopted her and he’s her father for all intents and purposes. Paula doesn’t remember Alberto. So breaking us, is not just breaking a marriage. It’s robbing my child the chance to have a father and…” the tears were coming now, so she paused before, “ _joder,_ I don’t cry. Not like this at least.” She laughed pitifully, wiping her eyes.

Monica smiled sympathetically, “not crying is overrated,” and jokingly added “if I had a cent for every time I’ve had to tell people that, I could afford to retire on a private island somewhere.” Seeing Raquel return her smile continued, “so we’ve established how you met and got to know Sergio, why you left your first husband and that Sergio is Paula’s stepfather. I still don’t know how the marriage happened…”

Raquel nodded and took another sip of her water before recounting the tale of her divorce. It had been messy, not only was she leaving her husband, she had filed a domestic abuse report because she didn’t want Alberto anywhere near Paula. Unfortunately for her, she had little proof to back her claims. No witnesses, no visits to the hospital where she had been treated for injuries, nothing. There was Paula’s injury, but his lawyers argued it happened because of Raquel’snegligence.

In the end, she had to agree to a compromise. Raquel got the divorce and full custody of her daughter, but Alberto was given visitation rights, every weekend in the presence of a social worker and she dropped her complaint for abuse. Most people took that as a win for Raquel, her family and friends told her she had gotten a decent deal. But then came the question of going back to work. Raquel had been on maternity leave for over a year when she got divorced. It was difficult establishing yourself as a star investment banker when you were a woman; marriage and childbirth made it worse. On top of it all, she had recently divorced the bank’s rising star, a popular wealth manager who was friends with everyone. In short, she was fucked. 

Officially, nobody could touch her; HR had called her in for a meeting her first week in explaining that they had heard about the case and the change in her personal circumstances. The sheepish Señor Sanchez had explained that while they would do their best to make sure she didn’t have any professional interaction with Alberto, they couldn’t pursue the matter further as that had been the court’s ruling. Raquel had been okay with that, but unofficially it was a boys club. Things became difficult once people started talking and Alberto’s ‘friends’ treated her differently. Raquel found herself being marginalised and soon the panic attacks that started when she was married to Alberto came back with a force. It was then that she decided her mental health was more important than the job and it was time to move on.

Call it luck, call it coincidence, there he was on her last day. Raquel remembered the surprise she had felt seeing him like it was yesterday. She was meeting him after seven years or so and their communication had all but stopped when she married Alberto. The memory of running into him there in the bank’s atrium, looking all shy and flustered as he explained that he had come to see his old boss Señor Torres brought a smile to Raquel’s face. They got talking, and he nervously asked what she was doing there with a box of what looked like personal artefacts when she told him she had quit her job. 

About fifteen minutes into that conversation and countless people asking for them to make way because they stood in the middle of a busy corridor, Sergio had asked if she wanted to continue the conversation over lunch. She had accepted; Paula was with her mother for the day and it wasn’t like she had anything better to do. She would probably be miserable if she went home now. Wrapping up a decade of her professional life at the bank had been harder than she had imagined.

Unsurprisingly, she had ended up at the same cafe Sergio had taken her to for an obligatory lunch her first day at the bank, where they later became a permanent fixture on Tuesdays. Raquel was grateful for the predictability of it on that day when everything else seemed to be falling apart. That simple act of coming in to eat at the same place as always brought her comfort that not everything in her life had to change. Maybe it was that, the fact that she was emotional about saying goodbye to the job she had started with great enthusiasm ten years ago, or the fact that Sergio was a good listener that she found herself opening up to him. Telling him everything that had happened with Alberto, her panic attacks and the need to leave all this behind. The people who wouldn’t stop judging her, the memories that haunted her, the fear that gripped her every time Paula was with Alberto, all of it. As always, Sergio had sat there quietly, taking it all in. She knew he was paying attention to everything she said, he’d always been like that, sat and listened without saying a word. But once she finished talking, he said the craziest thing she had ever heard. “Marry me.”

At first, she thought she hadn’t heard him right. Then she thought he was joking. But when he said the same thing after she said _“¿como?”_ , she was sure the universe had decided to continue torturing her. She had almost got up and left when a very nervous Sergio had asked her to stay, in a tone of voice she couldn’t remember him ever using. It wasn’t threatening, it was just very assertive, the tone of voice used by a man who was in control, who knew what he was doing. It had made her sit and listen.

He then described this crazy plan, where coming to San Francisco with him would rid her of everything she wanted to leave behind in Madrid. The gossip, the rumours, the fear of Paula being close to Alberto. Marrying him would give her permanent residence in the United States, and spousal privilege. He was talking in legalese, telling her how it would stop Alberto from chasing her and Paula. So much information coming at her with such pace, and so much intensity, it had been too much to process with the state of mind Raquel had been in. So she had never asked how he knew so much about the law, or why he had that different look in his eyes. The only word that somehow resonated with her in that moment was “escape”. She later thought it was a miracle she’d had the presence of mind to ask him what was in it for him. She remembered the shrug and the nervous push of his glasses when he had said, “freedom from my family.” Seeing her raise an eyebrow he had explained. 

Sergio’s love life was abysmal as far as his family was concerned and they took it upon themselves to nag and introduce him to potential wives and girlfriends at every opportunity. It had gotten so bad at one visit that he had found himself stuck with two dates at a family dinner. The result of a mix up between his overenthusiastic sister and philandering brother who had both invited a potential suitor. Instead of being annoyed, both women had made light of the situation, sat down on either side of him during dinner and had a grand time winding him up. He was so annoyed by the end of it that he had announced he was leaving his family house in Toledo to stay with a friend. But not before announcing this ‘friend’ was actually his girlfriend. That little lie had gotten him a year, even though his sister had given him hell over the lack of photos, or a social media presence of this rumoured girlfriend. He was skating on thin ice.

It was the stuff they made telenovelas about, but that afternoon Sergio had managed to convince Raquel that them getting married to each other when both wanted to stay single for the foreseeable future made perfect sense. She questioned her state of mind now, but that afternoon she had said yes and rocked up at the nearby parish for a religious ceremony that was followed by a legal marriage once they were in the States.

To say her family had been surprised would be an understatement, because despite her awful dating history, this wasn’t normal behaviour for Raquel. His family on the other hand, were delighted, apparently Sergio’s bachelor status at 37 had been a cause of great concern. His father had wanted to organise a grand reception, his sister wanted to take Raquel shopping for her bridal trousseau, and his brother didn’t seem to get tired of telling childhood stories handpicked to embarrass Sergio. But most of all, they accepted Paula and spent ages fussing over her like she was Sergio’s daughter. Raquel was overwhelmed, but she was grateful to have met the crazy, wonderful bunch that was the Marquina clan. 

Unfortunately it had ended too soon because Sergio had to be back at work in San Francisco two days after they had gotten married. So there had been no time for that reception his father had wanted to organise. Raquel remembered the resistance they had been met with when Sergio told his family, but it had all disappeared after a private conversation with his father and brother.She had wanted to spend more time getting to know his family, but was in no frame of mind for a wedding reception and keen to leave her life in Madrid behind, so she was glad that they were flying out so soon.

Sitting in Dr Monica Gaztambide’s office now narrating that story, Raquel felt more ridiculous than ever before. She saw the shrink looking at her intensely, and had to give the woman credit for her professionalism because she had managed to keep a straight face through most of it, which was more than what could be said about the psychologist Raquel had seen for her panic attacks.

In reality, Monica felt like she was back in her grandmother’s house in Huelva where she had grown up. Back from school, sat on the little kitchen stool watching a telenovela with her abuela while while the woman cooked dinner. But she knew she couldn’t sit on the edge of her seat, with her elbows in her lap, cupping her face in this instance. Crazy as it was, it was someone’s life and she was supposed to help them be better. So smiled she said, “you definitely weren’t exaggerating when you said this is one for the telenovelas.” That earned her a self-depreciating laugh from Raquel and there was a moment of silence before Monica continued, “I’m going to put this straight, and feel free to correct me if my understanding of your relationship is incorrect. You’re saying you were in a vulnerable frame of mind when you said yes to the marriage five years ago. You’re back to your old self now, so it seems like a mistake? And you’re starting to see everything that is wrong with your relationship? Lack of intimacy, of love…”

Raquel cut her off at that, “the only reason I want to work on this is because I know there is plenty of love. Even though my husband has a strange way of showing it…,” she shrugged and continued, “or well, not showing it on most occasions. But I know he cares.” She then looked Monica straight in the eye and said, “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you about Salva? Or el profesor?”

Monica shook her head negatively and said, “no, this is the first I am hearing of this. Are they friends of yours?”

Raquel laughed sarcastically, “friends, yeah. I suppose you could say that. But they aren’t people. My husband has a weird thing for role playing. At first, I thought it was his idea of fun,you know, we all have imaginary friends when we’re growing up. Sergio has always been a bit of a loner so I thought it was just something he never got over. Or maybe something he got out of a book or something. But it has become more frequent now and he doesn’t seem to want to stop. It is like a weird fetish.”

“A weird role playing fetish?” Monica repeated back and Raquel nodded, “one where he pretends to be someone else?” And Raquel nodded again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaning towards a very obvious mental health issue with this one. Please shout if anyone thinks this is a rubbish idea. Thank you for taking the time to read this.


	3. Hard truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Raquel's meeting with Monica and how Sergio reacts to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has taken a while to write with things starting to go back to normal here post Covid. Anyway, I hope the chapter makes for good reading.

Here’s the thing about tradition: it can feel suffocating for the free-spirited. The type of people who enjoy new experiences, including when it requires a little bit of risk taking. Because even if things don’t turn out the way we want them to, it's a life more lived. Raquel fully subscribed to this theory despite everything that had gone wrong in her life. From her relationship with Alberto, to the unconventional marriage with Sergio which had brought her halfway across the world.

She had her what-if moments like most people, but Raquel didn’t like living in the past. So much had gone wrong so quickly that she had ended up depressed - and strangely angry. Angry at herself for feeling vulnerable. Her psychologist, the lovely Dr Linda Martin who had now moved to the east coast had helped Raquel see things differently; embrace her choices and accept all parts of her life. She found strength in the knowledge that her experiences had enriched her as a person. There was now a quiet confidence in her and she longed for Sergio to find the same comfort and freedom.

Sergio, who lived his life rooted in tradition. Everything in his life was the way it was because he found comfort in familiarity. From the type of pyjamas, clothes and glasses he wore, to the kind of experiences he allowed himself. It was all part of a regime he had created for himself as an adolescent. Monica had ended their session by summarising Sergio’s personality type. She told Raquel given the type of person Sergio was, it was extremely difficult for him to only share his problems with a therapist, but also have his wife participate in the sessions.

Monica had given Raquel homework: she was give Sergio a safety net. A sense of comfort in the things that were familiar to him while they worked through the initial phase of his therapy. Monica said it didn’t have to be anything big, just the little things that form part of life as he knew it. 

Keen to put a foot in the right direction, Raquel set out make a dish that had been perfected and passed down by generations of cooks in the north of Spain that included her family: _bacalao al pil pil_. Few things were as hearty and as comforting than a casserole of carefully prepared cod, garlic, emulsified olive oil and fish juices; it was therapeutic. 

She knew Sergio liked it with freshly baked _barra_ , a type of baguette Raquel used to make quite often. Because even though he never said it out loud, she had been observant enough to have noticed the little signs. How he found a million excuses to hover in the kitchen as she cooked, the shine in his eyes when he plated the bacalao and broke big chunks of barra that he would dip in the sauce. Most of all, she remembered how he had once described the dish to Paula when the little girl had displayed lack of enthusiasm for it. 

_ “Eating it,” he had said, “makes you feel like you’re lying in a patch of warm sunshine on a December afternoon. Respecting the dedication and years of practice required to perfect tricky combination of simple ingredients, is at the foundation of family life.” Paula had looked at her stepfather with the confusion of a five year old, it made no sense to the little girl. But Raquel, who had been standing just outside the door to Paula’s nursery had been sure of three things on that day. One, her husband didn’t know she was there or he wouldn’t have expressed himself in so many words. Two, she had been right all along; he loved her barra and bacalao al pil pil. The third, and most important realisation, had come in the form of hope; in Sergio and their marriage. _

—*—

Standing over a bubbling mix of bacalao and olive oil, carefully shaking and stirring to release the gelatine gave Raquel time to reflect on her session with Dr Gaztambide. Talking about the past didn’t rattle her like it once used to, but having to discuss it all over again had taken a toll on Raquel. Her marriage with Sergio and everything that had led her to it - namely the cabrón, Alberto. Raquel didn’t regret the relationship in its entirety because it had given her Paula, she just preferred not to think about it. She sometimes liked to think she had created Paula all on her own, without the spit’s worth of sperm from Alberto. 

Her mother said God had led Sergio to them. As if to send Raquel a sign that she had suffered enough, her child deserved a chance at having a father figure but that didn’t mean either one of them needed to put up with Alberto’s abusive ways. Raquel wasn’t particularly religious, but she loved how Paula was with Sergio and knew he cared deeply for the little girl. That had been enough to keep her going after the initial euphoria of escapism had died down. 

Initially, the marriage worked because Sergio had delivered on his big promise: helping Raquel rebuild her life. He had taken her away from the wagging tongues and painful memories in Madrid, and brought her to the place that had allowed her freedom after years of doubting herself. She didn’t think it was possible in the beginning, after how strange the first few days had been with him.

** San Francisco, five years ago. **

The flight from Madrid had taken them over seventeen hours including the layover in London. It was a journey of many firsts: the first time Sergio was flying with someone who was not a coworker or related to him by blood; the first time Paula was on a plane, not that she would ever remember the flight she had taken aged thirteen months; and the first time Raquel was leaving Spain to make a home elsewhere.

Landing at San Francisco International Airport on an early summer afternoon, Raquel was too consumed by exhaustion to take in her surroundings. The journey had been emotionally taxing and she finally understood why parents said flying with babies was a nightmare. Paula had kept her up all through the flight. She had wanted to be held, wanted her mother to walk up and down the aisle while carrying her, or just keep her entertained. Raquel loved her daughter to bits but there was only so many times an adult could say “peekaboo”. 

The nervous looks Sergio kept giving her didn’t help matters either. He had been on edge the entire time and Raquel just couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Was he looking at her like that because he wanted to help and didn’t know how to ask? Or was that a look of panic from a man who wanted nothing to do with a baby and was afraid Raquel would ask for assistance? On the two occasions that Raquel had to use the toilet, she’d had no choice but to ask. Thankfully Paula had been asleep in the airline’s makeshift crib the first time so Sergio only had to keep an eye on her. The second time, when she returned from the toilet she found Paula playing with Sergio’s stupid tie, while he sat stiff as a plank, gingerly balancing the little girl on his knees - waiting to be rescued. Raquel had wanted to tell him he was doing okay, but he looked so uncomfortable she had mumbled a quick ‘gracias’ and relieved him of babysitting duties.

A short taxi ride later they were at Sergio’s Mission Bay Area apartment. Walking into the place, Raquel couldn’t help but ask if he had just rented the place. Sergio looked confused as he shook his head negatively and replied, “no, I’ve lived here three years.” Raquel found that hard to believe. It was one thing to keep your house clean, another to have one that looked like it had come out of a monochromatic Ikea catalogue, completely devoid of personal artefacts. Not only did his flat lack signs of life, it had been furnished using a single palette of charcoal greys and black, offset against the all white walls that lacked art or photographs. The kitchen looked like it had never been used either. The apartment was spacious, but it didn’t comprise of many rooms. An open plan kitchen and living room, that opened onto a sizeable balcony letting in plenty of sunlight. Off the corridor there was a decent sized bedroom and bathroom. In that moment Raquel and Sergio looked at each other, no words were needed. But both knew the other person had realised that his apartment was okay for a bachelor with a minimalist lifestyle, but it would be a bit difficult to make things work with a woman and a child in the equation.

Everything had happened so quickly in Madrid that logistics didn’t even form part of the conversation. Raquel found herself nervously chewing on a finger while Sergio had gone out to get supplies and a takeaway meal. She had never been in a situation where logistics had to be discussed. When she had moved in with her first boyfriend while at university, they had gone through the process together; from talking about the economics, to looking for places, to finally signing the lease for a tiny four storey walkup studio apartment - there had been disagreements but generally a domestic ease when it came to setting up a home. 

Later, when she started dating Alberto - and it pained Raquel to admit this to herself, moving in with him had been easy. She had been living with her mother at the time, so spending the night at hers just didn’t feel right. After the first couple of nights in Alberto’s apartment things just fell into place. The right side of the bed and nightstand were hers; Alberto cleared out a couple of shelves in the bathroom after she brought over some of her toiletries; a shelf in the living room housed her books. It wasn’t anything major, that’s what all couples did; and she sighed. What was the protocol for sharing a one bedroom apartment with a man, who had only been an acquaintance four days ago and was now your husband?

** Present day. **

Raquel was brought out of her reverie by the loud spluttering of her pil pil sauce. It looked a nice shade of pale yellow and had assumed a thick, creamy texture indicating it was ready. Raquel turned off the heat, it was time to transfer the cod and garlic back into the dish, get the accompanying salad and bread ready. It was almost seven, Sergio would be home soon and knew Paula would come bolting down stairs demanding dinner because papa was home.

\--*--

When they sat down for dinner that evening, Raquel noticed Sergio was a bit pensive. He was quieter then usual, even sparing Paula his encyclopaedic lectures in response to anything she asked and he kept picking at his food. Sergio wasn’t a big eater but he never picked on her bacalao. Breaking a piece of bread Raquel asked, “penny for your thoughts?” She raised an eyebrow when Sergio gave her a blank look. “Is something going on with you?” As before, he continued to look at her for what seemed like an eternity before shaking his head negatively in reply. He then attacked his fish gusto as if trying to reinforce the point. 

He wasn’t even his usual quiet self when he helped her with the washing up later. Sergio didn’t engage in banal chitchat, he preferred doing the dishes in comfortable silence with classical music playing in the background. His attitude was beginning to irritate Raquel, she sighed before asking him if he was okay again, this time in that assertive tone she only ever used as a last resort. Sergio turned around to look at her, pushed his glasses up his nose and asked, “how was your talk with Dr Gaztambide?”

Raquel knew that wasn’t what he wanted know. At least they were both on the same page on this, nervously skirting an aggravating topic. She decided to follow his lead and not make getting an answer any easier. So she laughed, trying to make light of the situation before replying, “is that really what’s had you all worked up this evening?” She paused before continuing, “it was alright. I would say she’s really good at her job but then I would also be praising myself,” looking at Sergio’s confused expression she added, “you know, because I looked her up and decided she would be a good fit?” 

Sergio only nodded in response, “what did you tell her?”

“Well, several things. She wanted to know how we got together, so I told her about my past. I told her about our family life,” she paused again as she looked up at him, “and I told her about us.”

“What about us?” He asked, getting visibly agitated now.

“Our relationship Sergio. You and I, as a couple. Or do you think that doesn’t matter?” She quipped.

Sergio sighed, dodging the topic wasn’t going to help. “Did you tell her the one thing we had agreed not to discuss with her?”

There it was, Raquel thought. She had known this was what he had wanted to ask all along. It was the one thing that had kept him on edge since he had relayed his therapist’s request to meet Raquel. There were several things Raquel wanted to say to him in that moment, and she realised she would have if he was any other man. But arguing with Sergio wouldn’t work because of what he always did, shutting down completely. 

Raquel could count the number of times they had argued on the fingers of one hand. Every time, he would go out of his way to make things up to her, even when he was right. It was hard to explain this problem to other people, they just found it endearing. The reality of it was quite different, because being in a relationship with someone who winced at the thought of the slightest confrontation was exhausting. 

There were several unresolved issues in their marriage, Raquel felt unable to discuss the tiniest of things like how much chocolate he should give Paula. Sergio’s overtly passive personality projected on her in an unhealthy way. She had to be the bad parent because he was so lenient. As a wife, she felt like she was walking on eggshells all the time to avoid being called a ball-buster.

It had been such a long day, and she still had to put Paula to bed. So she decided to answer his question in the most nonbelligerent way possible, “we didn’t agree anything Sergio. You decided you didn’t want to discuss things with her. I, on the other hand think it is an important part of your life - and so I told her. Now if you don’t mind finishing up here, I’ve had a long day and I need to get a couple of things done before going to bed.”

Sergio’s clenched jaw and tightened grip on the pan he was holding indicated that Raquel had touched a nerve. Deciding to let him deal with it in his own way, she turned around and left the kitchen.

—-* — -

Out of all the places in the world, Sergio felt most at ease in the quiet of his study. He didn’t care much for interior design and had left Raquel in charge of renovating, furnishing and decorating the house when they had bought it. She had done up this room for him to use as a home office and den. Simple, but elegant it had wood panelled walls; housed his favourite eames rosewood lounge chair, a desk for his computer and accessories, and large shelves filled with books and memorabilia he had collected over the years. 

Sergio had no idea how much he had needed this space until it had come together. It allowed him to unwind and get comfortable. Only at times like these, when he was completely calm he was capable of having conversations with all parts of himself. Today, he couldn’t help but analyse what Raquel had told him about her chat with Dr Gaztambide. 

He was agitated with himself and kept trying to block the voice in his head which told him she had overstepped the mark. But if he was honest with all of himself, he knew it was true. Theirs was a marriage based on preconditions, protocols of a sort and she had broken the one that was at the foundation of it.

_But what about love?_ Wondered another tiny voice from somewhere in the depths of his consciousness, _you love her don’t you?_

The other voice quipped back, _can there be love without respect?_ Back and forth, it went on for what seemed like ages, like static in his head. Frustrated, Sergio ran his hands through his hair before finally covering his ears. _Trying to block us out like we’re coming from the radio,_ the voices mocked. Sergio knew covering his ears was futile, he had years of practice trying several things. The only thing that worked was respect. One had to show respect, not just to the people around you, but your very soul. 

Raquel had opened Pandora’s box. The only way to put this genie back in the bottle was to convince her he didn’t need to see Dr Gaztambide. _“What, and let her go?”_ Said the nervous voice in his head, _“because you heard what she said.”_

_“OK, continue to act like the henpecked husband that you are. And this doctor of hers turns out like the one you saw in Madrid all those years ago.”_ Sergio’s eyes darkened at the thought, he couldn’t let Monica Gaztambide discover what his doctor in Madrid had suspected all those years ago. It didn’t matter how important Raquel and Paula were to him, some truths were best left untold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urging everyone with access to cod, olive oil and garlic and make bacalao al pil pil. I can only describe it as a treasure from the Basque country. The recipe is fairly straightforward but requires a steady, patient hand.

**Author's Note:**

> So there you have it guys. I would really appreciate honest feedback, tell me what sucks before you tell me what you like (if anything lol) about the story. I aim to continue in a week's time. Ciao!


End file.
